


Cleithro

by eyemeohmy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Other, Secret Crush, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4471580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck in a closet with your secret crush grinding in your lap. Just another day in Brainstorm's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleithro

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to an anon on tumblr, I got this prompt:
> 
> Brainstorm/Quark - Stuck in a small closet together with Brainstorm internally freaking out because holy sht his crush is in his lap
> 
> So, here we go.

Quark sighed, closing the commlink. “Dispatched to an automated emergency message,” he explained, “looks like we’re going to be here a while.”

“Yeah.”

Quark frowned. “I wish–-” His right elbow hit the wall as he stretched his arms; he glowered at the offending surface before settling his arms in his lap. “I wish the budget cuts hadn’t involved _quarantine units_.”

“Yeah.”

“You would think safety would have been their number one priority. But they couldn’t care less, so long as they get results. We’re simply additional variables in the experiment. If we’re lost in an explosion, or melted down to our spark casings from toxic exposure–-just all part of the hazards of our work.”

“Yeah.”

Quark cocked a browplate. He would look back, but it was too much effort to exert considering their situation. “You’re… strangely quiet about all this,” Quark said to his partner.

Said partner being Brainstorm. And said situation being an emergency alarm broadcast through the entire facility, resulting in Quark and Brainstorm taking shelter in their quarantine unit until help arrived and deemed the area clear. The quarantine shelter, however, was clearly made for only one person, or a couple Minibots. It was more the size of a _closet_ , in fact, and equally dark; the power had gone out, probably part of the emergency, and the only light came from their optics and bio-lights.

Quark would have fit fine alone, but with Brainstorm… The slightly larger mech was squashed against the back of the clos–-quarantine unit--in an uncomfortable kneeling-sitting position, his head bowed (though there was some ceiling space; width was more the issue). His shoulders were boxed in, wings folded back and cramped.

Quark, in the meantime, was nearly flush against the door, forced to sit plop in Brainstorm’s lap, his own legs folded awkwardly and back kibble brushing the walls every time he moved even an inch.

“I know you’re uncomfortable,” Quark said, and he chalked up Brainstorm’s sudden silence to that. If he could only see his face–-his blazing, nervous optics and wiggly little frown–-he might have realized it wasn’t the discomfort of the situation.

Not… entirely.

“I’m just in zen mode, s’all,” Brainstorm tittered. “Emergencies like these are–” His jaw snapped shut when Quark wiggled, grinding down into his lap, and heat rushed up his backstrut–-

“Are you ok-–” Quark accidentally jerked his head back, to look at Brainstorm, only for the top of his head to hit the flier’s chin. “Aagh!” He cursed, but Brainstorm did not seem to register the pain, still too in–-in–- “I’m sorry,” the microscope bot apologized; he went to rub his head, but his arm got stuck and he forced it back down. “Dammit!” He wiggled again, bouncing in Brainstorm’s lap.

Brainstorm’s fans rushed online, and Quark could clearly hear them venting air through his heated chassis. “You’re getting hotter,” he noted, and Brainstorm gulped, “please don’t have a panic attack. I’m already focusing all my energy on keeping myse–-”

“Nah-om!” Brainstorm nearly squawked, his voice strained. Quark looked confused. Brainstorm loudly cleared his throat, his fingers twitching. “No, no… I’m fine. It’s–it’s nothing. I’m just–just a little bored, you know. Restless. W-Woo, they sure are taking their time, yeah?”

Quark frowned. He was suspicious, but… “We might as well just take a stasis nap while we’re in here,” he joked and sat back. Sat back against Brainstorm, that is; back against his torso, so close, that EM field so restrained, trying so hard to keep from panicking–-

Quark jumped, nearly hitting Brainstorm in the face again. The flier suddenly jerked an arm loose, and managed to wiggle it around Quark’s mid-section.   
Quark blinked. “Are you okay?” he asked, touching the arm. “Well, nothing is okay right now, but–-”

“Just need to… change positions… a little…” Brainstorm said, and he wasn’t completely lying. “You mind if I…?” He demonstrated by placing his chin delicately on top of the bot’s scope head.

Quark huffed. “Usually I’d protest, but… It’s fine. I can move a little more if you need–-”

“No!” Brainstorm said, optics widening, and Quark froze. Brainstorm settled again, slowly smiling. “This is right where I wanna be,” he murmured, optics lidded as he rested his head on top of Quark’s.

“I’d rather be sipping a cocktail at Maccadam’s right now.”

“We can go after. On me.”

“Nothing is ever on you. For example, you’re literally _on me_ right now.”

Brainstorm chuckled. “Oh, you’re funny,” he said, and would poke Quark’s cheek right now if he could. He paused, his smile weakening a little. “You know. If anything were to actually happen-–we all know this is a drill; someone got trigger-happy in security–I wouldn’t… you know. Let anything… happen.” To you. But he couldn’t finish.

Quark laughed. “You would go back in time and stop the disaster from happening?”

Brainstorm was quiet. “Yeah,” he said, and Quark barely noticed him squeezing him just a little tighter, “… and that sounds really fun. We should totally do it.”

“If we don’t rot in this closet, I’ll consider it.”


End file.
